


Postal Punk

by the_nerd_word



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, He rocks those blue shorts, Levi is a punk rock postman, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 02:57:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1924134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_nerd_word/pseuds/the_nerd_word
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi is a punk postman, and Erwin is on his route. It only takes one killer dog and a leap of trespassing faith for them to meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Postal Punk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [berryfunkedup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/berryfunkedup/gifts).



> Commission prompt based on this [picture](http://egregious-eruri.tumblr.com/post/79865557399/commbuoy-post-punk) on tumblr.

Erwin Smith was not creepy.

That’s what he told himself, anyway, casually swiveling his home office chair to face the window. Early afternoon sunlight poured through the open blinds, warm despite the pane of glass. Across the street, the Mehaffy family’s two Yorkshire terriers were dialoging a continuous stream of yips and growls as they paced behind their short picket fence, which predictably meant three things:

One. Mrs. Mehaffy would, after a short period in which she finally lost her patience, throw open her front door–-nails bright, makeup half-done, and breasts perfect and voluminous under the violet silk teddy she liked to wear late into the day-–and with an impressive snarl that belied her petite figure, would yell, “Toodles! Bun-bun! Shut up!” They would ignore her, and she would slam the door after some creative profanity that related the terriers to diseased rats.

Two. The Fosters, an elderly couple who regularly spent their afternoons drinking Lipton tea on their front porch, would curl their lips at Mrs. Mehaffy’s outburst. Mr. Foster would grumble on for a while, too quiet to ever hear, and Mrs. Foster, in an effort to assert some visage of control, would turn her scowl on the gardener.

Three. The postman would walk by.

Erwin was an organized man. He liked reliability, he liked routine, and apparently, if the past week was anything to go by, he liked slim mailmen with steel-toed boots, clean high socks, and Mohawks that probably took the better of a half-hour to prepare every morning.

He didn’t know why he was so drawn to the government employee, only that there was something attractive and even a bit wild in the way the postman prowled the sidewalk, steps like declarations of confidence and eyes unimpressed. Erwin didn’t even know his name. Didn’t know anything beyond what he looked like, really, but he was on Erwin’s route, and at least that was something.

He watched the terriers for a few more seconds, saw their little bodies shiver with excitement; automatically flicked his eyes to the front door across the street to see Mrs. Mehaffy’s bouncing breasts; looked right at wrinkled, pursed lips and a gardener who used headphones to feign ignorance; glanced left, anticipating.

 _Any second now_ , he thought, and once again assured himself that he was not creepy, merely _interested_ , and there was a distinct difference between the two, and he didn’t exactly have anything else going on, and _why were the terriers squealing like that_?

“Oh,” he muttered in muted surprise, as the postman suddenly went sprinting past the window, messenger bag flung behind him like a ripped cape. “Hell.”

And it may as well have been, because close on the mailman’s heels, sporting over one-hundred pounds of compacted aggression, was the mastiff from four houses down.

Erwin caught a snap and a mean flash of drool-coated teeth, and suddenly the postman was veering sharply to the right, throwing his weight to the side in an effort to unbalance the mastiff’s course. He dashed directly across Erwin’s front lawn and toward the backyard. A thin stream of blood soaked the top seam of one sock, but even in his haste, his steps were steady, his expression coolly and intensely determined.

They rounded the corner, the mastiff encumbered by her weight, then there was a loud clang as the wrought iron fence was struck. Erwin stood with a curse and ran to the front door; he cleared the porch steps in a single short jump and peered around the corner, feeling relief like a weight when he didn’t see the postman’s mangled body in the jaws of the brindle beast.

The fence was a good seven feet high, with spade picket finals that lined the top of each individual post. The dog stood on her back legs and woofed at the gaps, each bark jiggling her hindquarters. Erwin eyed the scene dubiously; even with his height and a running start, he didn’t know if he’d be able to clear a fence like that. Then again, he thought, casting the mastiff a final wary glance as he quietly backed away to his front door, there was nothing quite like a bit of pressure hot on the heels to make a man capable of athletic wonders.

Inside, Erwin immediately started peering across the foyer and living room to the windows that lined the back of the house. He saw no sign of the mailman, but the backyard sported professional landscaping with fern-lined, winding paths that hid much of the property from view. Normally, he appreciated the measure of privacy the landscaping afforded, but as he opened the sliding glass door leading to the patio, he only felt concern. He knew the guy was hurt, but he wasn’t sure how badly, let alone how he might be reacting right now, injured and in a stranger’s backyard. As Erwin followed the path, his light steps masked by the persistent woofs of the mastiff, he wondered if the neighbors even knew that their dog was loose. He passed the pool without so much as a glance, craning his neck to see past a row of red hibiscus.

Then the gazebo came into view, and his pace quickened, because the postman was sitting in one of the chairs.

A dozen responses went through Erwin’s mind. Questions for the other’s well being, reassurances that he knew the postman wasn’t trespassing, amazement over how such a small guy could run so quickly and nimbly in such bulky boots. He approached the gazebo with one hand out, and worry superseding everything else when he saw the red glimmer of blood on the mailman’s right leg. The bite didn’t appear to be deep, but blood continued to sluggishly drip. He opened his mouth, ready to offer aid or at least politely announce his presence, but he was beaten to the punch.

“That,” grumbled the postman, who grimaced slightly as he peeled down a blood-dampened sock, “is one big ass dog.” 

Erwin couldn’t help it; he nearly smiled, finding humor despite the situation, and something in the sharp gaze of the government employee told him that the guy had noticed. “I believe her name is Titan. She belongs to the house on the corner, but I’ll call animal control,” he said, calmly searching the man for other injuries. He saw none, but phrased his observation like a question: “I’m just glad you seem to be alright?”

The mailman nodded curtly and gave his leg a final perfunctory prod. “If the bitch had been five milkbones lighter, she might have caught me.” He paused and narrowed his eyes in the direction of the fence. “I still ought to sue their asses.”

Erwin blinked, briefly wondering if the guy was serious, but nothing else was said on the matter. A few parcels were on the gazebo floor, and he bent to retrieve them; one was questionably damp at the corners, and Erwin hoped it wasn’t slobber, but the rest seemed to be okay. “Would you like to come inside for a moment? I know you don’t know me, but I have some basic first aid supplies, and you can call for a ride if you need one.”

The postman took a moment to consider the offer. He tilted his head to the side and stuck his injured leg out, carefully testing his maneuverability with small flexes. Apparently satisfied with whatever he saw, he sighed and promptly stood. “I have my own cell phone,” he said. “But I’d like to clean this up. Shit’s disgusting. No telling how filthy that dog’s mouth is.”

Erwin hummed in agreement, motioning toward the house. He was amused by the way the postman carried himself, back straight and chin high, as though he hadn’t just been running for his life, as if he were approaching his own home. Erwin also briefly wondered how, despite his midday sprint, the postman’s Mohawk was still perfectly sculpted. “You should probably go to a clinic or something. Just in case you need a shot.”

“Probably.”

“My name’s Erwin, by the way,” he offered as they rounded the pool.

“I know. Erwin Smith.” Crisp. Short words from a short man. “I’m Levi.”

“Ah, I suppose you do,” Erwin realized, smiling wryly, the expression slight and sarcastic as he glanced at the mail-filled messenger bag. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Levi.”

Levi only made a sound under his breath, non-committal, and Erwin supposed he couldn’t be blamed for it considering the circumstances. They walked in silence, and if it wasn’t comfortable, well, it’s wasn’t really uncomfortable either.

After he entered the house, Levi paused to give the room a quick visual sweep, his expression bland and closed. He gripped the strap to his bag tightly, hesitance revealed only in the minute tensing of his hands and shoulders, but he finally removed the bag and placed it neatly on a nearby counter top, taking a few extra moments to straighten the edges.

Erwin watched him quietly, feeling almost obtrusive even if the feeling made no sense. “I’ll get the first aid,” he said. “Please make yourself at home.”

Levi didn’t say anything, didn’t even acknowledge the words at all, but he began walking around the living room, casting glances at nearly everything. Erwin wondered if it was curiosity that made the postman move like that-–maybe caution, some instinct to be aware, to be familiar with one’s surroundings-–or if he was as truly unconcerned as he appeared.

The first aid kit was small, just a box with basic antiseptic, gauze, scissors, and some tape. He returned with it in hand, finding Levi waiting at the kitchen table.

“Everything in this neighborhood is freakishly huge,” Levi told him pointedly. “The dog. This house. You. Even your table is too big.”

Erwin glanced around as if reevaluating the place. “It is a lot of wasted space,” he agreed easily, moving to the sink to wash his hands and fill a clean bowl with water. He thought better of remarking how Levi was rather small, figured that might not be the best thing to say. Still, Levi narrowed his eyes as if he knew where Erwin’s thoughts had gone. “I’m not here very often, so I guess I don’t pay much attention to it.”

“One week, right?” Levi asked, the words cool-quiet and knowing.

Erwin faced the table in surprise. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Please. You think I never noticed your staring? You weren’t exactly discreet.”

“I, ah–” Erwin paused, cleared his throat. He placed the bowl on the table and took a seat across from Levi. “My apologies.”

“Why?”

“Because it was rude of me, and I should have realized–”

“No, dumbass,” Levi interrupted, leaning back in his chair with crossed arms. “Why did you always stare?”

Erwin pursed his lips, wondering if he shouldn’t feel more abashed. Or insulted. “You’re interesting.”

“Interesting.”

“Yes.”

Levi rolled his eyes. He lifted his injured leg and began to remove his boot. It was a process. “Your house isn’t gaudy,” he said at last, phrasing the compliment awkwardly. “It’s plain. Better than your backyard.”

Erwin gave the room a short glance, gave the window another. “I don’t like cluttered quarters. But I like plants, and being outside. I wish there were more trees.”

“Hm.” Levi placed his boot on the floor and only blinked when he slid down his sock. Blood swelled around two of the punctures, but didn’t drip, having already begun the process of clotting. “I hope you have a lot of peroxide. Bitch could have rabies.”

Erwin’s lips twitched, and he finally allowed himself a small smile. “Somehow, I don’t think peroxide can cure rabies. And besides, I was taught to avoid pouring peroxide on puncture wounds. Though,” he murmured, gently inspecting the gashes with cool, steady fingers, “they don’t seem very deep, which is good.” He added antibacterial soap to a rag and soaked in it in the bowl; after wringing it out, he applied the rag to Levi’s leg and rubbed efficient circles. “Sorry if this stings.”

Levi shrugged. He never flinched or complained, just watched closely, inspecting Erwin’s ministrations, his eyes following Erwin’s hands. The water in the bowl turned pink as the rag was re-wetted. “Taught, huh?” he asked suddenly, and his quiet, expecting tone matched the gentle cleaning. Erwin had to backtrack, found himself smiling again at the way Levi seemed to pull the conversation whichever way he pleased.

“Yes. I went through basic training in the military,” he explained, washing out the punctures one last time.

“This is an awfully expensive neighborhood for a foot soldier. You an officer?”

“Technically, I’m a colonel.”

“Technically,” Levi repeated flatly.

Erwin applied pressure for a few seconds, then grabbed the antiseptic cream when the bite marks only welled a little. “I’m an executive officer.”

“Ah, the right-hand-man, huh?”

Erwin snorted and applied a thin layer of ointment to each of the punctures. “More like a glorified secretary.”

“Fuck,” Levi said grudgingly, “if it pays like this…” He gestured to the household.

“What about you?” Erwin asked, nodding toward Levi’s uniform as he ripped a new piece of gauze. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen an alternative mailman before.”

Levi frowned and mouthed the word “alternative” like it was sour; he kept his tone sarcastic. “Are you asking why I’m a mailman?”

Erwin shrugged, amusement clear in the careful set of his shoulders and the lines by his eyes. “I am.”

“It’s undemanding, I get to be by myself, and normally I don’t have to run from anything.”

Erwin taped the sides of the gauze to Levi’s leg. “Speaking of which, don’t you have a van or something? I didn’t think mailmen still walked their routes.”

“Yes, but the security gate to this neighborhood fucks up sometimes. And besides, I like the walk through here. The lawns are clean-cut. Very orderly.”

Erwin chuckled and nodded. “They are that.”

“Fuck those rats across the street, though,” Levi added with a heavy amount of disdain.

“Hm, I agree.” Erwin checked the tightness of the tape, put the items back in the first aid kit, and went back to the sink to wash his hands. “If I were you, I’d go to a clinic no later than today. They’ll probably want to give you an antibiotic shot.” Levi didn’t reply to that, just stared at the clean white strip of gauze above his knee, for once pensive instead of annoyed. “I can give you a ride to your van. I imagine that it’d be painful to walk.”

“Maybe later,” Levi told him, suddenly folding his sticky sock into a neat little square.

“And right now?” Erwin asked, brows high and tone curious.

Levi sprawled back in his chair as if it was a throne and Erwin simply a guest. “Considering you just spent the last ten minutes feeling up my leg, I’d say you at least owe me a drink.”

Erwin couldn’t help his incredulous stare, short lived as it was. “Feeling you up?” he questioned slowly. “I wasn’t–” He stopped and let out a bark of a laugh. “Presumptuous. You’re awfully presumptuous,” he declared.

“Says the man who’s been watching me for a week.”

“You could have told me to stop, thrown an Anti-Flag T-shirt at me or something.”

“ _Funny_ ,” Levi told him scathingly, then waved one hand back and forth. “It doesn’t matter. A drink?”

“Right,” Erwin muttered, turning to the kitchen, torn between mirth and surprise and a general sense of fascination over his strange company. “I’m afraid the only options are tap water, tea and cheap brandy.”

“What kind of tea?”

“Uh.” Erwin drew the sound out while he searched through one drawer. “English breakfast.”

“That’ll do,” Levi replied lightly.

"Okay." Erwin took his time. The mugs were old and mismatched, hand-me-downs from his grandmother and a garage sale during his college days. He filled them with water, added the tea-bags, and set them in the microwave. He didn’t need to turn around to know Levi was watching him, felt the guy’s stare like a weight on his back, so the question didn’t come as a surprise.

“Have long have you lived here?”

“A little more than a year,” Erwin answered.

Levi crossed his ankles and scowled when the movement pulled on his wound. He checked it over briefly before looking back up. “I took this route nearly four months ago. How come this is the first time I’ve seen you?”

“I normally get two days of leave each month,” Erwin told him, eyeing the microwave timer as it counted down. “Unfortunately, things were hectic for a while; I accrued eight days, so here I am, finally.”

Levi looked dubious. “So tomorrow–”

“Is my last day.” The timer went off, and Erwin removed the mugs. “Sugar?”

“No. Milk.”

 “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting.”

“How do you take yours?”

“Sweetened, then iced.”

“Disgusting.”

Erwin laughed, the noise deep and easy, and Levi’s lips twitched a bit in response. After preparing both drinks, he brought them to the table and resumed his seat. He watched, curious, as Levi inspected his mug–-short and round, a clay exterior–-and brought it to his lips. A pause, a deliberate moment to taste. “Your ruling?”

Levi compressed his lips and licked the lower; Erwin tried not to focus on that. “Good enough,” Levi decided.

Erwin nodded, glad, and said as much.

They sipped. They didn’t talk. It was a nice.

“So,” Levi started, abruptly striking conversation with the critical tone Erwin was coming to expect from him. “I imagine you’ll have to pack tomorrow. Prepare your schedule. That sort of shit. Which means today is your last _real_ day off. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Erwin admitted. “I hadn’t really made plans.”

“Boring.”

“Relaxing,” Erwin correctly patiently, smiling behind his mug.

“What do you do when you’re not ‘relaxing’, old man?”

“Old?” Erwin repeated, just in time to see Levi smirk, eyes like a cat’s. “Brat. I like my time in the military. I like the comradery, and the discipline. When I’m here, I enjoy reading, and going to the lake sometimes.” Levi stared, as if waiting for something else, so he added, “I went hunting last fall.”

Levi continued to stare, and as the seconds went by, his expression grew unimpressed. He took another drink of his tea, then another. “Colonel Smith, when was the last time you got laid?”

Erwin supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised at that point, supposed he should have anticipated such a blatant disregard for privacy from the punk postman. He set his own drink down, though he kept his fingers around the handle. “How does your hair stay so perfectly in place?” he countered smoothly.

“Will power,” Levi answered flatly. “And I repeat, when?”

Erwin didn’t fidget. He never did, really, always holding on to some measure of control, to a calm exterior and an impressive measure of confidence. But he did look away for a moment, delaying. “Six or seven months ago. Like I said, my job got a little crazy.”

Levi quietly considered him, his expression suddenly closed off. “Alright, then,” he said at last. “Want to?”

“Get laid?” Erwin asked, blinking twice. “Are you serious?”

“Or something leading up to that,” Levi amended.

For the first time in a long time, Erwin was briefly at a loss for words. “You hardly know me,” he murmured at last.

“Is that a no?”

“It’s not, but–”

“Then why are you being such a wishy-washy shit?”

Erwin grinned and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I’ve _ever_ met anyone remotely like you, Levi.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It is.”

Levi grunted, yet he looked smug. “Just answer the damn question.”

“Well, yes. Sure.”

“Wow,” Levi deadpanned. “At least try to sound more enthused.”

“I’m just trying to wrap my head around today’s unusual events,” Erwin reassured him, and for all that he was politely reserved, his gaze lingered on the collarbone peeking from Levi’s jacket. “Maybe it was _you_ who was really watching _me_ this past week. Oh, hell, I still need to call animal control, and the neighbors.”

Levi’s sudden growl cut Erwin off, and he leaned forward with one elbow on the table. “You talk too much, big brows. _Act_.”

The colonel recognized an order when he heard one, and he obeyed. He leaned forward, dragging his chair with him, and cupped one hand on the postman’s cheek as he brought their mouths together.

Levi was aggressive. His lips were warm and chapstick-smooth, but he kissed Erwin like he only had seconds, all passion and vigor and immodest want. Erwin let him take the lead, parting his mouth–-with a sigh, an appreciative tilt, a little gasp-–when his lips were teased by Levi’s teeth.

He hissed a bit when those teeth clamped down, but Levi only chuckled and raised his still-booted foot to rest on the arm of Erwin’s chair. Erwin took the opportunity to run a hand up Levi’s leg, across his thigh and groin, pressing and caressing against those navy blue shorts. He smiled when Levi finally moaned a bit, the sound soft and restrained. A flush of warmth pooled in his stomach, began to rush lower as passion was converted into pleasure.

Levi tasted like the tea he preferred, all heat and milk-sweet. It was heady and perfect and everything Erwin found himself desiring at the moment.

“Tell me… what you want,” Levi said between kisses, right on cue, and he leaned back just enough to stare. Demanding and provocative, satisfied with such a level of control.   

Erwin answered by sliding to the floor on his knees and nuzzling the inside of Levi’s thigh.

“Oh,” Levi whispered, and for once he was the one to sound surprised.

It made Erwin smile, and he touched the grip of the uniform’s zipper while he pressed kisses to the growing bulge between Levi’s legs. “You’re sure?” he asked quietly. “I’m still technically a stranger.”

“For the love of God, shut _up_ ,” Levi scolded, and with an impatient twist of his fingers he undid his own fly.

Erwin slid those shorts down as if he wanted to drag out each and every second, slowly scrunching the material in his hands, careful not to disturb the medical gauze. Levi rolled his eyes and huffed under his breath, but he only moved to lift his hips, once for the shorts, again for his boxers.

Erwin was completely and entirely appreciative of the view.

He went down on Levi’s cock the same way he had tugged those shorts down, slowly and purposefully teasingly. The base gripped between forefinger and thumb, he relaxed his throat as he took Levi in, breathing steadily through his nose until he felt the tickle of hair. He rose with a distinctly wet sound before resuming.  

Levi began to make noises at the pace, none of them displeased. Little sighs and whines, more unguarded than he had been all day. He let out a shaky breath when Erwin looked up and their gazes locked, and he couldn’t help but grip Erwin’s hair. His fingers looked pale among the blonde strands. The colonel hummed, apparently happy with such a response, and the sound vibrated along Levi’s cock. “F-fuuuck.”

“Mm,” Erwin agreed, removing his mouth only long enough to lick a stripe from perineum to head.

Both of Levi’s legs lifted under the pleasure, one booted and the other bare, toes curling in leather and in air. “Keep humming,” he said, but the words were like a question and a keen. Erwin did so, bobbing his head to the chorus of a classic Sinatra song, and the feel of his throat coupled with the assent and the choice of song had Levi groaning loudly. He bucked his hips once, had to grip the sides of the chair to keep from doing so again. Erwin didn’t seem to mind, just kept making these deliciously inappropriate noises as he worked up and down Levi’s length. “Going to come,” Levi warned breathlessly, because as good as this was, he thought that swallowing someone’s come was pretty fucking gross, and he’d give Erwin an out in case he wanted it. “Going to–soon.”

Erwin hummed louder.

Levi came with a string of curses, tossing his head back and bending his legs against the rush of pleasure. The pain from the dog bite was a dull ache in comparison. He sucked in a deep breath, glancing down just in time to see Erwin swallow. Aroused and fascinated and irrationally flattered, he watched as that throat moved, felt compelled to lick his own lips.

And Erwin, still on his knees, smiled at him, all blue eyes and gold hair and suave confidence. He ran a thumb over the corners of his mouth, unfazed, and rested his elbows on Levi’s knees. “I guess you’d call this a 'special delivery'.”

A staggering amount of disbelief crossed Levi’s face, and he reached forward only enough to swat Erwin upside the head. “Don’t ruin this.”

Overall, Titan aside, they had a good day.

 

**Author's Note:**

> lolol "right hand man" do you see what i did there


End file.
